


After

by fanmin



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Assisted Suicide, Hallucinations, M/M, Post-Season/Series Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:53:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24368389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanmin/pseuds/fanmin
Summary: They never discussed what would happen “after”. When Wilson expired, their little adventure would be over. No sequel whatsoever. At the end of it all, House made a decision, but not before the hallucinations came back to annoy him.
Relationships: Amber Volakis/James Wilson, Greg House/James Wilson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	After

**Title:** After

 **Main Characters:** House, Wilson, bunch of hallucinations

xxx

Gregory House blinked his eyes open.

He had lost count on how many times in his life he had woken up feeling like this – disoriented – unable to pinpoint where exactly he was, how long he been asleep, not even why he was asleep in the first place. Years of drugging and being drugged by people around him tended to make this experience familiar, though no he would never really get used to it.

First thing he noticed was the pain in his leg. It was there, but not excruciatingly bad. Pain level four. Sometimes this fact could be comforting. At least, it ensured reality – he was not dreaming nor was he high on Vicodin.

He observed his surroundings, the room spinning slightly in his vision. Somehow, he was on the ground in a dim‑lit, messy, unfamiliar room. Wincing, he tried to get up and brushed the dust off his pants. Judging from the dull soreness, it seemed like he’d been on the floor at least a few hours.

 _T_ _his is eerily similar to that burning house situation_ , he thought. But the burning smell and the hot wooden flooring were notably missing, to his relief. House looked around the room again, trying to make sense of it in his brain as well as hoping to find his cane, and that was when he spotted a body lying still under the cover, on the bed across the room.

xxx

They were both lying on the creaky motel bed that was definitely too small for two grown men. Wilson’s head was on House’s shoulder, the man lying down contentedly with his eyes closed and his breath heavy. House was holding him tightly, his own body still rocking after having sobbed so much the last couple of minutes, his face deeply buried on Wilson’s hair.

“House,” Wilson called softly, tugging on House’s arm that enveloped his chest.

“A little longer,” was his reply, voice strained with tears.

To his surprise Wilson began laughing, and House momentarily wondered if neurological disorder was a symptom of late stage thymoma. He looked down questioningly and saw that Wilson was moving to face him too, a woeful smile on his lips despite the glint of mirth in his eyes.

“This is familiar,” Wilson said. “And I quoted Amber’s response, ‘we’re always gonna want just a little longer.’ Karma’s a bitch. And you look as shitty as I did.”

House just tsk-ed and let his hug loosened just a bit. “Yeah, this is all just a play and we’re good at playing different roles.”

“I kissed her one last time before I did it. Then I watched as light went out of her eyes.” Trust Wilson to be poetic to his death bed. Wilson’s eyes were dreamy now, certainly seeing himself back to that clean ICU room at PPTH years ago instead of this crappy cheap room at the outskirt of town. House did not like this situation at all and he definitely liked this less.

“You want to think of her while the light goes out of your eyes?” House asked in mock hurt slash annoyance. He disentangled himself carefully to reach a syringe placed on the bedside, twiddling it in front of Wilson’s face. He still couldn’t believe he would agree to this – to use this thing in his hand that will take Wilson away from him forever. “You think just because you remember her at your dying breath, she’ll be welcoming you and take your hand to the land of eternal happiness and forgive you for sleeping with me these last five months?”

Wilson was back, frowning at him, his brown eyes staring intently at House’s blue ones. “This,” he tried to make a gesture between them, whatever ‘this’ was, “isn’t a mistake, House. I love you.”

It stunned House for a moment, and made him want to cry again but no he was not going to break down _twice_ in front of Wilson. Earlier had been embarrassing enough. But the sincerity and simplicity of what Wilson said did stop him from replying with witty retort as usual. At least for a sec.

“Did you say that to Amber as she’s dying too?” House brought the syringe closer to Wilson’s neck. His hand was shaking. God he couldn’t do this, but he had made a promise, and he didn’t want Wilson to suffer longer either.

“Tell me you love me too,” Wilson pleaded, his eyes never leaving House’s.

A drop of tear escaped House’s eye as he looked at him back. The memory of them sitting in Wilson’s car flooded him, and the pleasant dinner they had just before things went sour, and all the other memories they shared that night, the Oreo, the bear, the jokes, the pranks, the lies, and all the events that had transpired the past fifteen years. All this that made House certain that yes, he loved Wilson. And all this that was going to end soon with a simple push of his thumb.

His thoughts were abruptly halted by Wilson’s coughs, sounding hacky and painful. His whole body shook as he gasped for breath, House held him to a sitting position so that he could breathe better, since the other man was too weak to sit on his own. It eased in a minute or so, though Wilson was still panting and sweating afterwards.

“Please… House,” Wilson’s pleas were barely discernible and House cradled his face to kiss him. Whether it was to stop Wilson from talking any more, or to convey his feelings that the other man so desperately wanted to hear, or to mimic what had happened between Wilson and Amber – House wasn’t sure. But he knew he could not say no any longer.

“I am here. Your life was worthwhile,” House whispered against the shivering lips. “I love you. Thank you Wilson for being my friend.” And with that, he injected the dose that will take the other man’s pain away. Along with the smile that’s currently lit up his face and the warmth that radiated from his mere presence.

“Thank you,” was Wilson’s last words. So House watched, until Wilson breathed his last breath, and his heart beat the last pulse. James Wilson was gone.

House placed a gentle kiss to Wilson’s forehead and tucked him under the comforter in as if the younger man was just going to sleep. Nobody could berate him now anyway for showing affection.

Wilson’s gone.

House limped slowly towards the bathroom. Staring at his own reflection on the mirror, he had to admit Wilson was right – he did look shitty with the reddened puffy eyes and grief painted all over his face. He turned the tap on and washed his face, feeling a small satisfaction at the feeling of fresh cold water. As he was reaching for the hand towel, he stopped in his track.

There on the towel rack was the other syringe that he had prepared.

 _What would House do_ after _?_

Was a question that often popped up both their minds since House faked his death, but remained unspoken and undiscussed. Deep down they knew they both assumed there was no after. When Wilson expired, their little adventure would be over. No sequel whatsoever.

House didn’t think about it when he bought the second syringe. He didn’t think about it when he filled it with what was supposed to be lethal dose for himself too. He assumed that when it happened they would die together, at the same time, so neither had to go through what it felt like to live in a world without the other. But he didn’t think about it either when he only brought one syringe to Wilson’s bedside this afternoon.

He was in a world without Wilson now. The man was dead. House had to write his own story and he had to think about it now.

“Right after this break,” was his last thought before he took another bottle on the rack instead and gulped a couple of pills. As he got out of the bathroom, things went dark.

xxx

The sky had just begun to darken. Wilson’s body was cold.

House closed the blinds and sat on the bed next to the lifeless body. He expected himself to break down in tears again, but no, not really – he felt rather numb now. Maybe he was still in denial. Wilson looked like he was just sleeping after all, well, minus the breathing.

“Why didn’t you take the morphine?”

A familiar voice startled him. House slowly turned towards the doorway. A familiar man was standing there, leaning on the wall, watching him curiously.

House stared back in horror for a short moment, before sighing loudly. “Oh come on. Another hallucination? I didn’t even take the Vicodin!”

Kutner smiled and walked closer to sit on a chair near the bed, opposite House. “It’s been a while House. This time maybe it’s all in your mind. You know trauma can trigger hallucinations and delusions.”

“Killing Wilson gives me PTSD? Cool,” House scoffed. “So, am I going to hallucinate different people convincing me to live _again_? Oh wait, you, will convince me to kill myself. I know the drill by now. Get me Cuddy for once won’t you? I’d want to know what she says.”

“I’m not here to convince you of anything, House. I’m just asking. Why, didn’t you, take the morphine? You could’ve died together with him.” Kutner motioned his head towards the bed, which made House looked at Wilson again. This felt like talking in the coma guy’s room. _More like the morgue_ , House’s mind added instantly.

“I still can, if you’re not bothering me. The syringe is still in the bathroom.”

“So why are you entertaining me?”

Kutner was annoying before. Obviously he still would be in his hallucination.

“Maybe because you still want to live? For the past five months you are actually _happy_. You are capable of being happy. Granted you are happy when you are spending your days with Wilson. But is it because of him? Maybe without him, yet away from everything, you still can find happiness,” Thirteen suddenly appeared from the bathroom, looking relaxed and healthy.

House raised an eyebrow. “You’re dead too?”

Thirteen shrugged. “How would you know? Besides, you hallucinated Stacy and Cameron too.”

True. But House didn’t hallucinate Thirteen before. Maybe she was the embodiment of a fresh point of view, House thought, which could be interesting. “You were saying, I could be happy with a total new start?”

“I was saying, which means you were thinking, that you might find another man. After all, you’ve discovered that you are as bi as I am,” She smirked as if challenging House to deny that. “Stacy, Cuddy, Dominika, Wilson – they were not the only people who could love you. If you die here in this sad room, alone, it’s over. If you go on, interesting things might happen.”

“Just because I’m _stoophing_ Wilson recently, doesn’t mean I’m gonna have hots for other men. Besides,” House could not believe he would be thinking about all this just hours after the man he loved died, or even before, “they said you need to mourn first before you think about sex with another man.”

“I think you’ve been mourning for five months,” Kutner chipped in again.

“And you’ve never had hots for other men because you never allowed yourself to,” Thirteen folded her arms, an equivalent to Wilsonian exasperated hands on hips. So House braced himself for a lecture that was sure to come. “You’ve been curious since Wilson came to your life, but you are scared that if you hire a male hooker you might like it and it might put a tear in your friendship if Wilson finds out. Your sexual jokes with Wilson are only safe if you are completely straight. And oh, nothing can damage your reputation too, not after all the innuendos and jokes you throw about practically all females in your life.”

Had Thirteen actually been annoying? House found himself unable to remember clearly. “God, when did this turn into a DDX on my sexuality?” He asked aloud. No point in thinking in silence if the other voices in head were currently having their own shapes and forms. “So I am bisexual. I’ll never cheat on Wilson.”

“Wilson’s dead.” Both hallucinations said in unison.

Wilson’s dead.

House turned to see the man on the bed again and this time, there was no denial about it.

xxx

They actually had come up with some plan to spend the remaining months, before the police officers came bearing the news about the arrest. However, after all that happened Wilson decided to scratch them all out and suggested to rewrite their plan as they go. Especially because many of those planned activities required both men to be alive to their own real identities.

Wilson had decided that their first destination would be New Orleans – even though it would take days to cover with the bikes. House offered no complaints.

They parked their motorbikes at a diner, first stop of the trip after riding side by side the entire daylight. After ordering a quick dinner and some beers, Wilson decided to turn in early to the motel just behind the diner, exhausted both physically and mentally.

Wilson got them only one room. House offered no complaints either.

“You’ve been uncannily quiet the whole day. I’ve begun to suspect that you really died in that fire and this is just my imagination.” Wilson pointed an accusatory finger at him once they settled in the room. “Am I hallucinating?”

“If I’m a hallucination, the guy in the lobby downstairs wouldn’t give us funny look when you ask for only one room,” House replied easily, throwing his back on the bed to his instant regret. The mattress would kill their spine by the morning.

Wilson winced in sympathy. “And you didn’t question why I ask for only one room?”

House had the sexual retort ready to roll off his lips when he saw how nervous Wilson looked, like he was second-guessing himself whether to have this conversation. _Oh no, not this._ House thought ahead, already guessing where this was going.

“I wanted to go Orleans because I wanted to go back to the beginning, and restart our relationship,” Wilson began, inching closer to the bed hesitantly. “Fifteen years of friendship with you have been a crazy ride. I’ve enjoyed it. But, I want to know what it feels like to spend the remaining months in something more. In other words,” Wilson took a deep breath, “I want to sleep with you and I don’t want to waste the time until we get there.”

House had guessed correctly, but it still left him astounded that Wilson would put it that blatantly. He started at him for a long time, so many things unspoken between their gaze. There was fear mostly, along with longing and wonder.

Since House didn’t say anything, Wilson continued. “I don’t care if you’re straight, House. You can pretend I’m Cuddy or a hooker. And I know this might ruin everything but with me dying and you’re legally dead, we’ll be stuck with each other anyway. You can think of this as fulfilling a dying man’s wish and…” he started to babble and House thought he had heard enough of the word “dying” from Wilson’s mouth for the day.

“Come here Wilson,” House interrupted, his eyes serious.

The younger man approached the bed slowly before House pulled him quick to be on top of his body, both instinctively careful to avoid House’s bad leg. Up close, House could see the fear in Wilson’s face more clearly. He was sure his expression mirrored it too. This was an unexplored territory for both of them and it might suck or it might not, but it would alter their friendship with no point of return.

It might ruin everything if one decided that it sucked while the other had to force himself to pretend he felt the same way for the upcoming months.

Well, Wilson had decided it was worth risking for.

So House kissed him. And Wilson kissed back almost instantly.

The physicality of it was a bit awkward since neither had any experience but emotionally, both could feel that everything _finally_ fit when they held each other intimately. There wasn’t any need for epiphanies for them to be sure of it. _It didn’t suck._

Since that night, Wilson always slept in House’s arms.

xxx

House came with a sigh.

The shower had gotten cold, and the pain in his leg had started to flare after the orgasm, but he felt more aches in his heart. He started off by imagining a faceless body with a dick, imagining himself to be in hot shower with a male hooker and quickly ended up imagining Wilson’s body pressing against him instead, his moans reverberating calling out his name in heavy pants, and it felt good until he realised afterwards how morbid it was that the subject of his fantasy was just outside and not breathing.

He cleaned up after himself and finished up showering, looking more presentable as he got out of the bathroom, bringing the syringe with him. He needed to make a decision soon. Screw “Thirteen” for reminding him of the hot times with Wilson.

House walked towards the bed again and found that Kutner and Thirteen was gone, in their place was Amber, sitting close to Wilson’s body, her hand stroking his hair gently. He rolled his eyes.

“Let me guess. You want me to live, so that you can have Wilson to yourself,” House deadpanned.

Amber looked at him and chuckled. “I thought you didn’t believe in the afterlife.”

“You told me to get off the bus,” House said.

“Wasn’t I a figment of your mind?”

“Sure. So what are you standing for now? Last I hallucinated you, you told me I live for puzzles. I’m gonna cry for Wilson for a week and I move on to other puzzles, or something like that.” House sat back in his previous position. He felt quite irritated that this Amber was touching his Wilson. _Apparently all hallucinations are annoying._

“Exactly. You killed yourself to be with Wilson because he always interests you. But Wilson stopped being interesting the moment you slept together,” Amber’s eyes glinted, which made House guarded himself up. Amber-shaped hallucination had track record of being dangerous. “You’ve always been restless these past five months. But you stay with him because you love him enough to stay. Now that he’s dead, you’ll need to go after your next puzzle.”

House hated the fact that he didn’t disagree. He had been _happy_ , sure, but he had also been _bored_. Wilson brought him to various bars, fancy restaurants, stupid tourism spots, freakin Disneyland once, Las Vegas strip, countless national parks… and here they were some miles away from Montana because Wilson wanted to _float on a clear lake._ He did not make it.

“Maybe he wanted to die tonight because he’s worried he’ll be boring you too much that you’ll leave him,” Amber commented on that thought.

House turned to her sharply.

“You know he could have survived maybe couple more weeks, though he’s already starting to weaken. He could have floated on that stupid lake before asking you to _off_ him. What happened last night? Why did he suddenly ask for it?”

House found himself unable to answer. “He knows I won’t leave him no matter what.”

“Knew,” Amber corrected.

xxx

They had to stop at a motel at the side of the road because House’s leg could not take it any further. They were riding on a single bike now, as Wilson had gotten to weak to ride on his own. In fact, Wilson was too weak to do most anything by now.

Being in an evolved relationship didn’t instantly make them stop bickering over small things, or disagreeing over small issues. Wilson still frowned in disapproval every time House offended another human being, and House still couldn’t keep his mouth shut most of the time.

However as Wilson’s cancer progressed, with the constant fatigue and difficulty in breathing also came mood swings and depression. There were good days and bad days now – one day Wilson could be laughing with House and enjoyed the scenery or did some activities associated with the place they were at. Other days, Wilson would just stay in bed asking House to hold him, while he drifted on and off from sleep.

That night, House’s leg was bad and Wilson’s mood was bad. Not a good combination.

“Scoot over,” House ordered. “M’ leg hurts.” He jumped on the bed carrying a bowl of French fries he ordered from the room service.

Wilson who was reading a book peacefully sighed in exasperation. “House, you’re getting grease all over the comforter.”

“Do you prefer we soil it with something else?” House leered suggestively, a standard response from ages past.

“Can’t. If you’re horny go call a hooker and get another bed.”

That earned a frown on House, because the way Wilson said it was not the standard tone from ages past. It was like Wilson had lost and given up, there was hopelessness in his tone yet also a scathing bitterness.

Realising House’s silence, Wilson sighed and turned to face House. “I’m sorry House. I didn’t mean.. you know what I meant. These days I just.. can’t.”

House scowled at that and placed the bowl on the bedside table. “Wilson, look at me.” And Wilson did, eyes moistening with disappointment directing towards himself. “I don’t care what you can or cannot do. I’m staying with you for the rest of your life.” This was a promise House was sure he would not break. He placed both his hands on Wilson’s pale cheeks. “Now please don’t make me say more vows and turn into a fourth Mrs. Wilson.”

Wilson chuckled at that and nodded. Love and adoration shone in his eyes, which made House smile too. “And now you’re getting grease all over my face,” Wilson replied eventually.

So House soiled it with soft kisses instead.

The next morning, House woke to small kisses on his neck and something stiff grinding against his small back. He turned questioningly towards the other man, to be met with vigorous kiss on his lips as Wilson climbed on top of House’s body.

“Give me one last good memory of this House,” Wilson breathed against his jaw, panting heavily that House was sure it was not just from lust. That knowledge turned House off instantly as he pushed Wilson off as gentle as he could.

“You’re out of breath. This can kill you,” House said quickly, hating the dejected look on Wilson’s face.

“I’d rather die having sex with you than coughing painfully somewhere along the road,” Wilson said gloomily. “Regardless, I’m gonna have to ask you to let me go today, House. Before I got any worse…”

All hints of sleepiness were gone from House at hearing that. He turned on the light and saw that Wilson’s eyes were red, he looked like he hadn’t got any sleep and maybe he had been thinking about this for a while now. House himself knew he should have had it coming sooner or later, but how could he ever be prepared?

“Don’t make me do this, Wilson,” House was the one begging now. “Please.”

“You promised,” Wilson frowned.

House did. He made a promise to kill Thirteen before the Huntington took her, well he would break it now that he was legally dead, but he had been genuine when he promised her that relief. He thought Wilson deserved that too.

What Wilson asked, House would give.

With a sigh House nodded. “You’re gonna die painlessly from a lethal dose of morphine. Not gasping from breath in the middle of what would be a painful sex to you. I promise I’ll be with you all the way to the end.” House kissed Wilson’s lips chastely. “Now sleep. We can have a short enjoyable day before it’s over.”

Wilson agreed and apparently House’s promise was very reassuring to him. Wilson was fast asleep afterwards, while House was the one kept awake – memorising every inch of Wilson’s face before having to let him disappear forever.

xxx

“He didn’t ask to die because I thought he was boring,” House chastised Amber after having revisited the memory. “The argument about the hooker thing didn’t mean anything.”

“You promised to be with him for the rest of his life, so he cut it short. Why? So you can live a more meaningful less boring life sooner,” Amber said. “He knows he’s wasting away and in the process he’s wasting you away. So you should accept that gift, and move on to the next puzzle.”

“Yeah, like solving your sexual curiosity,” Thirteen’s voice could be heard again despite her no longer being here.

“Or you could follow get that morphine. If you stay here any longer, people might find Wilson’s body and fault you for it.” Kutner’s voice.

“You can end your pain as a gift to yourself. You’ve suffered enough,” Cameron’s voice.

“You can develop conscience without Wilson around and become a better person. You don’t have to die today,” Stacy’s voice.

“You’ll choose yourself over everybody else over and over again because that’s just who you are,” Cuddy’s voice.

House’s head was pounding with the many voices echoing in his head. Back then, the thought of Wilson dying alone pushed all these voices away and made him get up to save himself from the fire. But now, having nothing real to live for made this decision impossible.

He stared at the syringe still in his hand and looked at Wilson’s face again. He made a decision.

xxx

When they woke up again the sun had already risen high.

They didn’t talk about it as they had their lunch, Wilson ordering a steak that he couldn’t finish and House downing more beers than usual. They didn’t talk about it as House propped Wilson on the back of his motorbike and they rode together for a while – just going along the road and seeing the lake from afar, feeling the fresh summer breeze hit their faces.

Maybe part of House was hoping Wilson would delay this longer, now that he’d see a glimpse of the beautiful scenery. But Wilson didn’t bring it up at all. Classic case of a _problem delayed is a problem denied._

They had headed back to the motel when the silence spell was broken.

“I had a funny dream last night,” Wilson began.

“Is this before or after you wake me with a pistol in your pants? Oh wait, that’s not what I’m going to kill you with.” House shouldn’t have made this into anything resembling a joke and said it so calmly like that. But House never did what he should have, did he?

And Wilson ignored the jibe. “It’s about the joint custody. Remember that?”

House was helping Wilson walk onto the bed and when he heard this he couldn’t help but throwing the man down instead, a scowl in his face. Bringing up Amber deserved no gentleness, he decided.

Wilson laughed though he grimaced at the contact. His reflexes had gotten bad and he had his arm barely braced the fall to the hard mattress. “Yeah, I forgot you want to kill me by breaking my bones. Thanks for the reminder.”

“You deserve it,” House replied, grabbing a chair to the side of the bed.

“I remember that was a short period in my life that I was so happy, felt so loved. I’ve always loved it when you are possessive towards me. And I’ve got her, whom I loved and who loved me back and the sex was great, the relationship was working, she was like all I ever wanted. A female version of you,” Wilson continued despite the obvious disinterest in House’s face. “I thought I couldn’t be happier. Yet it didn’t last.”

“If you want me to apologise for my every wrong doing before you die, the thymoma might get you faster.”

Wilson just shook his head. “Anyway last night I dreamt that we were in, well, the afterlife. And she proposed another joint custody for me. Instead of Cuddy we were standing before a faceless God, and both of you listed down things why you should get more of my time.”

House tried to ignore the fact that it sounded like Wilson had assumed they were going to die together. “Sounds like a personal hell to me,” he muttered. “Let me guess, meanwhile you were standing behind us like a wuss again, afraid of pissing either of us,” before quickly adding, “with all the love in the world.”

“This is when it gets interesting. I yelled _NO_ loudly, startling everybody in the room. I chose you.” Wilson extended his hand, which House took gently to his face. “House, these past five months, I’ve been happy just being with you. I don’t need anything else. Amber will always have special spot in my heart but it is you I’ll want to spend eternity with. I’ll choose you all over again.”

“But you want to end this today. There is no eternity, Wilson.” House was a compulsive reality-setter. No way he would let Wilson decide something like ending his life based on an imaginary dream.

“I’m at my happiest point these days, House. I don’t want to degrade further and lose this good feeling. Some days I feel so down and I’m pushing you in the process,” Wilson let himself to be vulnerable, all truths finally unmasked. “I don’t want you to ever resent me. And you can promise you will never leave but you can’t promise you’re never going to resent me when I can barely do anything anymore. I want that morphine now, House.”

House wanted to refute him, he really did. But he was right, wasn’t he?

_When the cancer’s getting bad…_

_Cancer’s boring._

House had not wanted to think about it, but he had to now.

He imagined someday along the road where they were seated at another motel room, short miles away from a beautiful alpine that Wilson was too weak to climb. Days were spent with Wilson sleeping through half of it, the other half coughing and retching. There wasn’t even much to do inside the room, Wilson no longer be able to do anything that accelerated his heart rate and that included sex of any kind. Plus Wilson getting cranky daily that they couldn’t even banter as per normal. There was very little of Wilson left in the dying man and House would resent that.

Yes he would let Wilson die before then. But when? It surely would be anytime later than now? Later than today?

“House?”

It didn’t matter because today was the day Wilson had decided for himself. “I’ll get the syringe.”

xxx

House gave Wilson’s body one final look before he closed the motel door. He had sent an anonymous text to Foreman detailing the address of this motel – trusting the man would take care of the body sooner than for the motel employees to find it. Meanwhile House rode alone towards the lake, bringing only a small pouch containing the syringe and the morphine vial, and a little bit of Wilson’s cash.

He rented a boat, and float on clear water he eventually did.

xxx

_“I’ll choose you all over again.”_

Turns out it was House who in the end made a decision based on an imaginary dream.

–End–


End file.
